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The fourth day of the second loop dawned with the feeling of stepping on a plank Subaru and Link knew was rotten.
It was not just any day. That was the worst part. For Ram, Rem, Emilia, Puck, Roswaal, and Beatrice, it was simply another day within the mansion's routine: chores, cleaning, provisions, work, corrections, breakfast, orders, and that elegant calm that made Roswaal Manor seem safer than it truly was. For Subaru and Link, however, the fourth day had the shape of a warning. It was the village. The children. The dog. The strange smell. The night approaching the point where things began to rot beneath the surface.
Subaru felt it from the moment he opened his eyes.
He sat on the bed, staring at his hands as if expecting to see a mark that did not yet exist in this loop. The puppy's bite was not there. His skin remained clean, whole, too healthy. The absence of the wound caused him a discomfort worse than mild pain. In a normal world, waking up without marks would have been a relief. In this world, it was proof that death had a habit of correcting the body while leaving memory bleeding.
"Fourth day," he murmured.
The phrase did not make him feel prepared.
He dressed in the apprentice uniform, still badly worn by any of Ram's standards, but far better than at the beginning. He had learned where to tighten, where to leave slack, how to adjust the collar, how not to look like he had just fought his clothes. Then he washed his face, smelled his sleeve out of pure reflex, and let out a bitter laugh. He could not perceive that smell. Link had explained it. One could smell a room, a garment, food, another person; but one's own body was a sensory prison. The nose grew used to its owner. If that strange, dark, witch-like stench, or whatever it was, was clinging to him, Subaru was the worst possible judge.
That made him depend on Link.
And perhaps on Rem.
He did not like the idea.
In another wing of the mansion, Link was already awake before dawn. He had not jolted upright or walked through the darkness like in that dead loop, but he had not slept well either. The moon had remained high over the gardens through the night, entering through the window of his room like a pale gaze. Several times, he had wanted to get up, bring out his horns, and walk through the hallways to check whether the world was still there. He did not. He stayed in bed, breathing, pressing his fingers against the blanket until the impulse passed.
He did not want to repeat the same scene.
He did not want Rem to find him beneath the moon again.
Not yet.
When he got up, he carefully checked his back. The previous day's practice with two kagunes had left an internal sensitivity, like soreness in muscles that should not exist. There were no visible wounds, but there was a strange sensation when he moved his shoulders. He dressed in exterior work clothes and, before leaving, looked at the gloves that were still not the gloves Rem had ordered for him in the previous loop. In this line, he did not have them yet. He had not reached that point. There had not yet been enough walking, enough trust, enough of a moment for her to think of buying them before he asked.
He ran a hand over his face.
"Today is the village."
The phrase came out with a tiredness that did not belong to morning.
Breakfast was livelier than either of them felt.
Ram had adopted "Barusu" with merciless naturalness, as if the nickname had existed since the origin of language. Subaru protested during the first few minutes, more to maintain his role than out of true surprise. Emilia smiled with a certain guilt every time the nickname appeared, though she did not seem able to stop finding it funny. Puck repeated it once from Emilia's shoulder, and Subaru declared that even the spirits had joined his nominal persecution. Ram replied that Barusu inspired that kind of unity.
Link ate in silence, paying more attention to the conversations than to the food. Rem served an extra portion in front of him without asking permission. It was a practical gesture, based on observing his appetite and physical expenditure, but even so, it brushed something sensitive in his chest. In the previous loop, Rem had already learned how to measure his plates. In this one, she was only beginning to do so again. Small threads were stretching themselves back into place, and that was as beautiful as it was cruel.
Roswaal, from the head of the table, announced with a smile that Rem would go to the nearby village to collect provisions and fulfill several errands.
Subaru raised his hand immediately.
"I'm going."
Ram did not even need to look at him to answer.
"Barusu was not requested."
"That is precisely why my offer is a display of workplace initiative. As an apprentice servant, I must become familiar with the suppliers, the village, the roads, the local economy, and any possibility that the village children might appreciate my charisma before this mansion finishes destroying it."
"Ram believes your charisma was already damaged from the factory."
"My charisma has survived worse things than your comments!"
Ram finally looked at him.
"Barusu confuses surviving with functioning."
Subaru brought a hand to his chest.
"Another arrow. Direct and clean."
Emilia intervened gently.
"I think going to the village could help Subaru learn the surroundings better. Besides, it seems he really wants to go."
"Emilia-tan understands the value of community learning!"
"I'm still not used to that 'tan,'" Emilia said, though she seemed less lost with the nickname now.
Link placed his glass on the table.
"I'm going too."
Subaru turned toward him.
"You too?"
"I work in the gardens. I need to know where tools, seeds, herbs, soil, and anything that keeps me from murdering plants out of ignorance are bought."
Ram barely raised an eyebrow.
"Link admits the risk of plant murder. That is progress."
"I've learned that some plants are emotionally important to the mansion."
"Ram would not say emotionally."
"I would. It helps me not pull them out."
Rem looked at Link attentively.
"If Link accompanies us, he will be able to carry provisions and inspect ingredients. His sense of smell could be useful for detecting damp grain or spoiled fruit."
Subaru pointed at Link.
"Exactly! His gourmet hound nose will serve the cause."
Link looked at him.
"If you use that phrase in front of the villagers, I'm leaving you to carry the sacks alone."
"I withdraw 'gourmet hound' and replace it with 'sensory provisions specialist.'"
"Worse."
Roswaal released a singsong laugh.
"I see no problem with both of them accompanying Rem. Subaru-kun can become familiar with the village, and Link-kun can help with carrying and inspecting goods. Just make sure not to cause unnecessary trouble."
Ram closed her eyes.
"Roswaal-sama asks for impossibilities with a smile."
"It is part of the charm of governing a mansion full of interesting personalities."
"Ram prefers 'problematic.'"
"That works too."
Rem gave a small bow.
"Then Rem will prepare the list of errands, and we will leave after organizing the morning tasks."
Subaru tried to look triumphant.
Link tried to look normal.
Neither fully managed to fool Rem.
They left in the middle of the morning.
The mansion remained behind them, its elegant silhouette cut against the sky, far too beautiful for the number of secrets it held. Rem walked ahead with the errand list in one hand and an initial basket in the other. Subaru walked at her side for the first few minutes, talking more than necessary, making comments about the scenery, asking the names of plants and mountains, inventing absurd titles for his future reputation among the villagers. Link walked a little behind, quieter, his nose open to the road.
Damp earth.
Grass.
Wood.
Animals.
Rem's scent, firm and clean.
Subaru's, dark beneath everything else.
Link wrinkled his nose slightly.
Subaru noticed.
"Still there?"
Link did not answer immediately because Rem was too close.
"Yes," he finally said quietly.
Subaru swallowed.
"Useless bath, then."
"For that smell, yes."
"My hygienic self-esteem just fell off a cliff."
"Don't let it show."
"My self-esteem or the smell?"
"Both."
Rem, without turning around, spoke calmly.
"If both of you have something to communicate about Subaru's condition, it would be better to do so clearly."
Subaru went rigid.
So did Link.
Rem kept walking, but her voice did not lose its softness.
"Rem does not need to know every detail. However, if Subaru is ill, tired, or experiencing any problem that affects his work, it should be reported."
Subaru breathed.
"I'm not sick. I think. It's just... Link says I smell weird."
Rem stopped.
The road fell silent for a moment.
Link internally cursed Subaru, though he knew the phrase had been inevitable sooner or later. Rem turned toward them. Her visible eye settled first on Subaru, then on Link.
"Weird how?"
Link chose his words carefully.
"It isn't sweat. It isn't dirt. It didn't go away with a bath. I noticed it since the capital, but now it's stronger. I don't know what it is."
Rem looked at Subaru.
He tried to smile.
"For what it's worth, I don't know what it is either. I feel unfairly accused by my own existence."
Rem did not smile.
"I understand."
She said nothing more.
But Link saw her posture change. Barely. A minimal adjustment in her shoulders, in her attention, in the distance. Rem already knew. Or at least, that smell meant something to her. Confirming it did not reassure Link. It made him tenser.
Subaru tried to change the air.
"Well, as representative of suspicious smells, I promise to behave during the outing."
Ram would have said something cruel. Rem only replied:
"That would be advisable."
The road continued.
The village appeared with its usual simplicity, low houses, fences, fields, animals, and voices mixing beneath the sun. The place had not changed. That should have been comforting, but for Subaru and Link, it was like returning to a stage where an invisible trap was already set. The children did not take long to appear. First, a girl who recognized Rem. Then two curious boys. Then another group approached when they saw Subaru, because Subaru had that energy of a person who seemed to need an audience in order to function properly.
"Good morning, citizens of this honorable village!" Subaru greeted, recovering his character with an ease that was almost painful. "I am Subaru Natsuki, apprentice servant, community explorer, victim of the nickname Barusu, and official defender of morning morale."
A girl stared at him.
"He talks weird."
Link let out a short laugh.
"Excellent judgment."
Subaru placed a hand over his heart.
"Once again, children detect my misunderstood greatness."
"They detected the weirdness," Link said.
"Greatness always looks weird at first."
The children surrounded Subaru quickly. Some looked at Link, perhaps vaguely acknowledging his presence because to them, this was the first time they had seen him. One asked if he was strong. Another wanted to know if his hands could lift a barrel. A girl pointed at his back and asked if it was true there were monsters in the mansion. Subaru opened his mouth, probably to say something gloriously stupid, but Link was faster.
"The monster is Subaru when no one gives him attention."
The children laughed.
Subaru accepted the blow like an artist.
"Exactly. And to keep me peaceful, I need a brave audience."
Link saw the opportunity and took it mercilessly.
"Subaru, I have a mission for you."
Subaru turned toward him, narrowing his eyes.
"That phrase once again sounds like planned abandonment."
"Not abandonment. Delegation."
"Worse. Sounds more administrative."
Link stepped closer and lowered his voice enough that Rem, a few steps behind, could probably hear him if she wanted to, but the children could not.
"I need to help Rem with errands. You can entertain the children, ask them about the village, watch if that strange dog appears, and keep them away from the vendors while we work."
Subaru looked at him.
"That sounds useful."
"It is."
"It also sounds like you want to be alone with Rem."
"That too."
Subaru blinked.
He had not expected him to admit it so directly.
Link looked at him tiredly.
"We've already gone through too many deaths to pretend you don't know the obvious."
Subaru opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Then smiled, softer than usual.
"Fine. But you owe me one."
"I'll lend you a tentacle."
Subaru's smile vanished.
"Excuse me?"
Link turned a little, making sure no one was too close, and took a deep breath. He did not want to bring out the kagune in the middle of the village like a dangerous spectacle, but he had practiced. Two limbs the day before. He could control one much better. If he kept it small, if he did not move it quickly, if the children saw it as some kind of strange trick and Subaru handled the show, it could work. Besides, having an extension near Subaru would allow him to watch him from a distance while accompanying Rem.
That was what he told himself.
The truth was that he also wanted Subaru to stop getting in the way of his fake date.
The fabric at his back lifted slightly. Link allowed a smaller kagune than the ones from practice to emerge, a dark red, flexible limb that came out slowly and curved forward like a long tail. Some children stared open-mouthed. One girl let out an excited scream, not a frightened one. Subaru immediately raised both hands, entering character before anyone could process the strangeness as danger.
"Behold! The great Subaru and his auxiliary red dragon!"
"It's not your dragon," Link said.
"Lent by my gardener companion, the branch tamer!"
"That's not right either."
The children approached with fascination. Link kept the kagune low, away from small faces and hands.
"No touching without permission," he said firmly.
Rem, who had been observing the scene with very serious attention, took a step toward him.
"Link."
His name was enough for the kagune to go completely still.
"I'm controlling it," he said. "If it moves wrong, I'll withdraw it. I just want Subaru to be able to entertain them, and I'll still feel it. It's like... leaving a living rope. But I'm the one moving it."
Rem looked at the kagune, then at the children, and finally at Subaru.
Subaru raised a hand.
"I'll act as child supervisor and play victim, I promise. No dangerous pulling, no wrapping children, no making this look like a deadly fair attraction."
Rem held the silence.
Link added, lower:
"If you say no, I'll withdraw it."
That phrase changed something.
Not because Rem fully trusted him. She could not. She should not. But Link was not imposing the strangeness. He was asking for a limit. Accepting a limit. That mattered.
"Only slow movements," Rem said. "And not around anyone's neck or torso."
Subaru blinked.
"Rem, I'm worried you had to specify that."
"Rem specifies things to prevent stupidity."
"Fair."
Link nodded.
"Slow movements. No wrapping. No hanging children."
A boy raised his hand.
"Not even a little?"
"Not even a little," Rem and Link said at the same time.
Subaru brought both hands to his chest.
"That coordination was terrifying."
Thus was born the strangest game that village had seen in a long time.
Subaru stood in front of the children, holding the end of the kagune as if it were a ceremonial rope, though in reality Link was still controlling every movement from a few steps behind. The red limb rose slowly, forming low arcs for the children to pass under, curving into wide spirals Subaru presented as "heroic trials," pointing directions when Subaru improvised stories about a lazy red dragon that only obeyed if the children shouted absurd words. The kagune did not touch anyone with force. At most, it brushed the ground, lifted a fallen branch, or made small clumsy gestures the children celebrated as magic.
Subaru was in his element.
"First trial! Cross beneath the dragon's tail without awakening its fury!"
"It's not a dragon!" Link shouted from behind.
"The dragon denies its nature out of humility!"
The children laughed.
Link brought a hand to his face.
Rem observed the scene with a mixture difficult to read. The caution was still there. It did not disappear. But there was something else too, a less tense attention, perhaps because the kagune, that red thing that should have been terrifying, was being used to keep children laughing. The contradiction did not make Link harmless. But it did make it impossible to classify him simply.
"I didn't think this would work so well," Link said.
"Subaru seems skilled with children," Rem replied.
"Subaru is a big child with the vocabulary of a cheap protagonist. They understand each other."
Rem looked at him.
"You speak harshly of your friend."
Link watched Subaru pretending the kagune was biting his sleeve while several children screamed with excitement.
"If I speak gently, he gets too excited. You have to keep his feet on the ground."
"And does he do the same for you?"
Link smiled faintly.
"He tries. Usually fails. But he tries."
Rem lowered her gaze to the errand list.
"We must continue."
"Yes."
The kagune stayed with Subaru, or more exactly, it extended from Link with enough distance that he could walk beside Rem without separating too far. It was not comfortable. The sensation was strange: part of his body remained behind, moving slowly under his control while he advanced with her. It was like holding a taut rope with his back and his mind at the same time. But it worked. It allowed him to feel Subaru's surroundings, the children's laughter, the small tugs of curiosity when someone got too close. Each time that happened, the kagune lifted out of reach.
"It is difficult," Rem said, noticing his concentration.
"Yes. But useful."
"You are sweating."
"My body still doesn't understand the concept of monstrous multitasking."
"Then do not force it too much."
Link looked at her from the corner of his eye.
"Was that concern?"
Rem's expression did not change.
"It was supervision."
"Of course."
"If you faint in the village, it will be inconvenient."
"There's the mansion's tenderness."
Rem kept walking.
"Tenderness is not part of the work instructions."
"It should be. It would improve the work environment."
"Ram would not agree."
"Ram would say tenderness reduces productivity."
"Probably."
Link smiled.
The first shop was the fruit and herb shop. Rem placed the orders with precision. Link smelled baskets, separated some fruit that was too ripe, and quickly found the acidic fruits he had used for the Carlota in another loop. He looked at them for one second too long.
Rem noticed.
"Do you need them?"
"Yes. I was thinking of making another dessert, if I have permission. Lemon Carlota. Well, from these fruits."
"You prepared it yesterday."
"Yes. But it can be improved."
Rem tilted her head.
"Yesterday you said cooking calmed you."
Link froze.
He had not expected her to remember it like that.
"Yes. It does."
"Then you may request to use the kitchen if you finish your tasks."
"Would you supervise?"
The question came out too fast.
Rem looked at him.
Link wanted the ground to swallow him.
"If Rem is available," she answered.
"That... would be useful."
"For the dessert."
"Yes. For the dessert."
The fruit seller, an older woman with eyes too awake to miss the tone of the conversation, smiled as she placed the fruits into a bag.
"The young man from the mansion seems very interested in cooking with Miss Rem."
Link took the bag with too much care.
"I'm interested in not ruining the recipe."
"Of course," the woman said, not believing him at all.
Rem paid with absolute calm.
Link tried to preserve his dignity.
From afar, Subaru shouted:
"Link! The red dragon demands to know whether you're flirting or working!"
The children laughed.
Link closed his eyes.
"I'm going to retract it just so I can strangle him with my normal hands."
Rem took the bag of fruits.
"You must not strangle Subaru during work hours."
"Outside work hours?"
"Also no."
"Harsh restrictions."
"Necessary ones."
They continued.
At the tool shop, Link checked handles, ropes, and metal parts. His sense of smell was not as helpful there as touch, but he could detect damp wood, poorly cured leather, and rusted metal beneath oil. Rem negotiated with the artisan, and Link carried several packages effortlessly. As in the previous loop, the man commented that Rem always thought of everything. This time, gloves had not yet been ordered for him, but Link saw a pair of thick leather ones hanging at the side. He looked at them. Rem followed his gaze.
"Do you need them?"
"They could help me avoid marking tools."
Rem observed his hands.
"Then they will be purchased."
Link turned toward her.
"You don't have to—"
"They are for mansion work. If they prevent damage, they are a reasonable purchase."
The explanation was practical.
Just like before.
And yet, Link felt something rebuild in the exact same place.
"Thank you, Rem."
"Take care of them."
"I will."
The artisan, once again, smiled as if seeing more than he said.
"Miss Rem always takes good care of the mansion's affairs."
Link put on the new gloves and flexed his fingers.
"Yes. She does."
Rem did not answer, but this time Link thought he saw the smallest pause before she continued with the list.
The kagune, meanwhile, stayed with Subaru.
The distance complicated things. Link could not fully concentrate on Rem and keep the game going at the same time. So Subaru had to adapt. The kagune moved slowly, obeying simple orders: up, down, form an arch, point, lift a branch, spin in a circle. Subaru built an entire story around that limitation. According to him, the red dragon was in "energy-saving mode" because its true power was too great for the village. The children believed him with the selective generosity of childhood, which accepts any absurdity if it comes with enough enthusiasm.
A little girl tried to touch the kagune. Link felt the contact before seeing it.
The limb rose immediately.
Subaru crouched in front of the girl.
"Dragon rule: you look, you admire, you don't touch without permission. If you touch it, the grumpy gardener scolds me."
"Is the gardener bad?" she asked.
"No. He only looks that way. Inside, he's soft like dessert."
Link heard that through the noise and shouted from the shop:
"Subaru!"
The children laughed even harder.
Rem lowered her gaze, perhaps to review the list.
Perhaps to hide a reaction.
Link decided not to ask.
The puppy scene came as if the world had been waiting for the exact moment.
The small dog appeared between the houses, wagging its tail, with pale fur and a harmless appearance. Some children called it affectionately. Subaru, who already came from the previous line with caution hidden beneath his performance, saw it and tensed slightly. Link smelled it before turning his head. Sour. Damp. Strange. That smell was still there, mixed with mud, fur, and something deeper his nose did not know how to name.
The kagune lifted slightly by reflex.
Rem noticed.
"What is it?"
"The dog."
Rem looked toward Subaru.
"What about it?"
"It smells strange."
The word "strange" was beginning to tire him with its insufficiency.
Subaru tried to keep the children distracted, but the dog approached anyway, jumping around them. One child picked it up. Another wanted Subaru to pet it. Subaru hesitated. If he avoided the dog completely, perhaps he would change too much. If he let it bite him again, he would confirm a clue but run toward the same trap. Fear crossed his eyes, and Link saw it from afar.
The dog jumped.
Subaru extended his hand to carefully push it away, not to pet it.
The puppy nibbled his fingers.
"Ow!" Subaru pulled his hand back with a gesture more controlled than the first time, but still dramatic enough for the children to laugh. "The ferocious beast attacks again!"
Link felt his stomach sink.
Rem watched the scene attentively.
"Did it bite you?"
Subaru lifted his hand.
A small mark.
Nothing alarming.
Everything alarming.
"Just a little nibble," Subaru said. "My dignity suffered more than my skin."
Link retracted the kagune at once.
Not violently, but quickly. The children protested because the "red dragon" disappeared, but Subaru improvised that it had returned to its cave because the canine beast scared it. The laughter continued. Link walked toward Subaru with Rem at his side. His face must have said too much, because Subaru lowered his voice before he reached him.
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine," Link said.
"It's small."
"It doesn't matter."
Rem approached and took Subaru's hand professionally, inspecting the bite. Subaru went rigid. Not from embarrassment. From fear. Rem noticed. So did Link.
"The wound must be washed when we return," Rem said. "Even if it is small."
"Yes. I will."
Link looked at the dog.
The puppy wagged its tail as if nothing had happened.
For the first time, Link felt the urge to kick it far away. He did not. There were children around. He had no proof. Only smell and memory. But the kagune, already retracted, stirred beneath his skin like a silent answer.
Rem released Subaru's hand.
"We will continue with the errands. Afterward, we will return to the mansion."
Subaru nodded.
The children began saying goodbye, disappointed because the red dragon did not reappear. Subaru promised to return with new stories. Link promised nothing. He looked at the children longer than necessary, trying to imagine which of them might be in danger if the dog was more than a dog. He did not know enough. Not yet.
The return was heavier than the departure.
Subaru walked with a light basket, occasionally looking at the bite. Link carried most of the provisions, including the acidic fruits and the new gloves. Rem walked between them, quieter than before. The sun was starting to lower. The village was left behind. The road toward the mansion seemed too calm.
"Link," Rem said at a moment when Subaru was a few steps ahead. "Why did the dog worry you so much?"
Link held the sacks.
"Because of the smell."
"Only because of that?"
"And because Subaru already smells strange. I don't like adding strangeness."
"Does the dog's smell resemble Subaru's?"
Link thought carefully before answering.
"Not the same. But both are wrong. I don't know how to explain it."
Rem looked toward Subaru.
"I understand."
Link was not sure that was good.
"Rem."
She turned toward him.
"Yes?"
"If you know something about that smell, even if you can't say everything... I need you not to ignore what happens with Subaru."
Rem did not answer immediately.
"Subaru is suspicious."
The phrase was cold.
Link felt the load in his arms weigh less than that word.
"Subaru is an idiot. Loud, reckless, exaggerated, and capable of saying something embarrassing even during a public execution. But he isn't a bad person."
"Bad people can act like idiots."
"Yes. But Subaru isn't acting. That's the problem. He's like that."
Rem observed him in silence.
"You trust him greatly."
"He saved my life."
He did not explain further.
He could not.
Rem lowered her gaze toward the road.
"Rem cannot ignore a danger to the mansion."
"I'm not asking you to."
"Then what are you asking?"
Link looked at Subaru, who was walking ahead trying to pretend he was not listening and failing.
"That if you decide there is danger, you look twice first."
Rem did not promise anything.
But she did not reject it either.
"Rem will keep it in mind."
For Link, that was little.
It was also a lot.
When they arrived at the mansion, Ram received them with her usual expression. Subaru lifted his bitten hand before she could ask, announcing that he had suffered a "minor-scale canine attack." Ram looked at him and said that even puppies seemed able to detect the irritation he caused. Subaru declared that the village loved him and that the dog was a dissident. Emilia became worried when she saw the bite and asked for it to be cleaned immediately. Puck sniffed the air, curious, but said nothing conclusive.
Link handed the provisions to Rem.
Among them were the acidic fruits.
"For the Carlota," she said.
"If they let me use the kitchen."
"Rem will supervise after dinner if there are no other matters."
Subaru, even with his hand being washed by another maid under Rem's instructions, raised his voice from the hallway.
"I vote for Carlota! The wounded need medicinal dessert!"
Ram answered from somewhere else:
"Barusu needs to work in silence."
"My wound demands compassion!"
"Your wound is small."
"My heart is big!"
Link allowed himself to laugh.
Rem glanced at him.
"You seem calmer."
"Subaru shouting nonsense helps confirm he's still alive."
Rem did not answer.
That night, Link made Lemon Carlota.
It was not a grand ceremony. There was no Puck freezing with enthusiasm or Beatrice stealing portions. It was simpler, more intimate, more like work. Rem supervised the ingredients, Link mixed the cream with the acidic fruits, Subaru tried to enter for a taste and was expelled by Ram until he finished his tasks. The kitchen smelled of citrus, sweet milk, and biscuits. Link worked with the new gloves on at first, but Rem indicated that for cooking he had to remove them and wash his hands properly. He obeyed with almost comical seriousness.
"The gloves are for tools," Rem said.
"They're new. I got excited."
"One does not cook with gardening gloves."
"Noted."
Rem helped him arrange the layers. This time, Link did not need as much correction, but he allowed himself to ask. He asked about containers, timing, the cold storage. Rem answered. The conversation flowed quietly, without Subaru nearby to turn every pause into a spectacle.
"Today you used your kagune again with children nearby," Rem said while he spread a layer of cream.
"I know."
"It was risky."
"I know that too."
"Why did you do it?"
Link left the spoon on the edge of the bowl.
"To watch Subaru without sticking to him. To entertain the children. To practice control in a non-dangerous situation. And... to be able to walk with you while we handled the errands."
The final phrase remained bare on the table.
Rem looked at him.
Link did not take it back.
He was already tired of half-lying to her.
"That last part was not work-related," Rem said.
"No."
"Why?"
Link lowered his gaze toward the Carlota.
"Because I like talking to you."
Rem kept silent.
She did not blush. She did not smile. She neither accepted nor rejected it. She only looked at him with that calm that sometimes seemed like a door and sometimes like a wall.
"Rem does not know whether that is prudent."
Link let out a low laugh.
"Almost nothing I do is prudent."
"That is not a virtue."
"I didn't say it was."
Rem looked back at the dessert.
"The layer is uneven."
Link took a deep breath.
"Thank you for saving me from my own confession with pastry criticism."
"It must be even."
"Yes, Rem."
The Carlota turned out well.
When it was served after cooling, Subaru ate his portion with the solemnity of a man who had survived a puppy and needed a reward. Emilia smiled after tasting it. Ram said "acceptable," which Subaru celebrated as if Link had received a noble title. Rem ate hers slowly, without great expression, but finished the entire portion.
Link noticed.
She noticed that he noticed.
Neither said anything.
Later, when the tasks were done and the mansion began preparing for the night, Subaru approached Link in the hallway with his hand bandaged.
"The dog bit me again."
"Yes."
"The bath didn't remove the smell."
"No."
"Rem knows."
Link looked toward a dark window.
"Yes."
Subaru swallowed.
"Tomorrow is the day."
Link did not answer immediately.
The fourth day was ending. In the previous loop, after a sweet night, death had arrived without explanation. This time, Subaru had the bite again. Rem was more alert. The smell remained clinging to him. Link had spoken too much and not enough. The village had laughed, the kagune had played at being a dragon, and the Lemon Carlota had come back into existence in a line where nothing was guaranteed.
"Don't walk alone tonight," Subaru said.
Link looked at him.
"You either."
"Deal."
They did not shake hands. Subaru had a bandaged bite, and Link did not want to touch it even by accident.
But the deal stayed there.
In the dark mansion, while Ram put out lamps, Rem checked hallways, and Emilia retired with Puck already tired, the fourth day of the second loop came to an end with tense calm.
This time, Link was not dead beneath the moon.
Subaru was not asleep without knowing what would kill him.
But the smell was still there.
And the night had not yet finished deciding whom it would claim first.